


day and night

by forfree



Category: Performer RPF
Genre: F/M, a Scandalous type fic about offices, how innovative!, look here would you look at that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7651969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forfree/pseuds/forfree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beyoncé lands a job at Jordan & Johnson, a prestigious law firm, where she works for a Majid Johnson, a shot caller who can't slow down for anything or anybody- but he's about to make an exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> um what's up i hope nobody mentioned in this fic finds this!!!!! if ur one of the people mentioned in here dont look at this or ur gay but like anyway im just being paranoid. thanks to eva @mydeddyalabama 4 helping me out with this title!! eva ur a real one

A clock on the wall ticks faintly and steadily. Beyoncé can’t seem to keep her hands still enough. The person sitting in front of her reads her resumé and taps their pen on the paper. Beyoncé forces herself to keep her hands clasped together and in her lap. She looks around. The pit of her stomach feels funny. The hiring manager asks her to tell them about herself, and she tells them about the three years of experience she has in administration and proceeds to make her way through more questions with answers that are scripted, but not bullshitted in the slightest (and in her opinion, delivered greatly). She goes home to her roommate Amir and feeds him the exact same lines that say she’s got her fingers crossed when it comes to getting a call back.

 

The events occur in the exact same order for a week as Beyoncé goes from one interview to another.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bey. Bey! Bey, wake up,” Amir says to Beyoncé, who’s sound asleep. “Be-yon-cé.”

 

“Amir, shut up, gimme half an hour.”

 

“Can Jordan and Jameson give you half an hour? ‘Cause they’re on the phone.”

 

Beyoncé sits up quickly. “What?”

 

“Jordan and Jameson.” Amir shoves the phone into her hands.

 

“Hello?” Beyoncé asks in her best “I totally was not just asleep” tone.

 

“Yes, hello- I’m calling with regard to your interview last week,” the person on the other line says. “How early can you come in?”

 

“How early do you need me to come in?” Beyoncé looks at Amir and grins. He nods excitedly.

 

“Tomorrow, seven-thirty A.M., and not a minute later.”

 

“Alright, tomorrow, seven-thirty, that’s when you’ll see me,” Beyoncé says.

 

“Great,” the person says, drawing the word out. “It was nice talking with you, and I can’t wait to see you at the office tomorrow- oh, and you’re gonna love Mr. Jameson. Anyway, have a nice day.”

 

Beyoncé politely tells them that she’s sure she’ll love her new boss, says goodbye, and hangs up. Her and Amir stare at each other for a minute before they both shout unintelligible things at each other happily.

 

“Jordan and Jameson! You have a job!”

 

“Jordan! And! Jameson!”

 

“Miss Secretary, Bey The Secretary, Secretary Bey,” Amir jokes.

 

“There’s always time to work on the title,” Beyoncé tells Amir with a laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

Beyoncé gets out of bed and is hit with the smell of pancakes as soon as she steps out of her room a few minutes later.

 

“Celebratory pancakes, Bey. It’s mandatory,” Amir says. He tries to show off and flip a pancake by tossing it into the air, but he doesn’t catch it and it hits the floor. “Shit.”

 

“‘Shit’ is right.”

 

“Hey, do you want pancakes or do you  _ not _ want pancakes? Because I can like, totally not give them to you.”

 

“I’m sorry, Amir. Give me some pancakes.”

 

Amir huffs indignantly and puts two pancakes he’d already made on Beyoncé’s plate with a smile.

 

“So, how do you think working for Jordan and Jameson is gonna go, Bey?” Amir asks as Beyoncé eats her food.

 

“I think it’s going to be stellar,” Beyoncé answers, her mouth full.

 

“Table manners-”

 

Beyoncé swallows quickly and waves her hand in an act of dismissal. “I’m too excited, forget that.”

 

Amir rolls his eyes. Beyoncé grins.


	2. new beginnings

“Amir, do you think I sound wear a pantsuit or-”

 

“Is it nineteen eighty-four?” Amir calls from outside of Beyoncé’s room. “Then no.”

 

“Okay, then,” Beyoncé says.

 

She settles for a blazer and a pencil skirt.

 

Flinging her door open dramatically, she says, “Business casual.”

 

Amir gives her a high five and checks his watch. “It’s six.”

 

“Alright, I got time,” Beyoncé says.

 

Amir makes her breakfast (since she can’t cook without getting the fire department involved) and she talks to him about how excited she is to start working at a law firm. By the time she’s finished, it’s six-thirty and she’s rushing out the door to get to the subway.

 

She takes the G train to work. Watching the performers on the subway and the people who happily cheer and look on makes her think that maybe, just maybe, she’ll have a successful day. When she gets out of the subway and arrives at the building that the firm is in (which takes up a street corner and a block and a half), she stands and look at it in awe. She’s seen it before, she’s even been inside, but something about the fact that she’s employed there fills her with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

 

She walks into the building and is almost overwhelmed by the seemingly never ending buzz of the people in it. Getting on the elevator with six other people, she presses the button for the fourteenth floor and is awkwardly rooted in her spot until she gets to her destination, too afraid to make conversation with the strangers surrounding her.

 

Before she can get to the front desk, the woman behind it rushes to her and shakes her hand.

 

“You’re early. Beyoncé, right?” the woman asks.

 

Beyoncé puts on her most professional (but still kind) tone despite being turned off to the overenthusiasm that’s coming from a stranger so early in the morning. “Yes, I am- and you are...”

“Daysha,” the woman answers happily, “but you’ll get to know me and everyone else better in no time. Now, enough about me- you’ve gotta meet Mr. Jameson. He’s been so anxious to meet you since he saw your application.”

 

“Oh, wow, I-” Beyoncé is cut off when she sees Daysha go back behind the desk to make a call.

 

“I already sent that to you,” Daysha pauses to listen to the person on the other end of the line and speaks up again shortly after. “They said that fax should be here shortly. Listen, a Beyoncé Knowles is here to see you.”

 

Beyoncé’s previous anxiety washes away at the sound of her full name being used, and she can’t put her finger on why; maybe it’s the fact that it makes her feel confident in some strange and slightly egotistical way. She’ll never know. 

Daysha looks at Beyoncé and smiles kindly. “Alright, I’ll send her in.”

 

Beyoncé stands a little straighter and fixes her skirt.  

 

“Mr. J is gonna be down that hallway- the third door on your right.”

 

Beyoncé nods. “Thanks again- Daysha?”

 

“You got it,” Daysha says with a smile.

 

As she walks to the office, Beyoncé envisions herself walking down a runway of sorts- not that all eyes are going to be on her or anything like that, but she likes to believe that one should always carry themselves as if it’s so. She counts her steps, stares at her shoes (she desperately hopes that she made the right shoe choice), and before she can finish taking in the pleasant sound of her shoes hitting the floor, she’s at Mr. Jameson’s door. Not-so-tentatively, she knocks, and a quick response of, “Come in!” is heard.

She strides into the room in a manner that’s comparable to the President walking into the Oval Office and her new boss looks up from the mess of paper on his desk, shooting up from his chair to greet her. She puts a delicate hand out and shakes his firmly. She almost holds on for too long.

 

“Miss Knowles,” he says, “it’s great to finally meet you.”

 

Beyoncé looks him up and down (as far down as the desk he’s standing behind allows, at least); his hair is parted neatly to the left, and the only place it looks amiss is the spot behind his ear where he’s shoved a pen for some unknown reason. His dress shirt looks like it’s slightly too small for him, and she asks herself if he did that on purpose (either way, she’s fine with it, he looks great). Though he looks a little plain, he’s very handsome.

 

“I’m glad to be here, Mr. Jameson,” Beyoncé says as she takes a seat.

 

“Not only am I grateful for you being around, but so is Daysha- the poor girl’s really been tearing her hair out at all of the extra work being put on her,” Mr. Jameson admits with a chuckle, sitting down as well. “I think you’ll be a great addition to our team.”

 

Beyoncé smiles politely, crossing her legs at the ankles and smoothing out her skirt. She takes a glance around the room, noting the plaques and certificates and photos from universities, country clubs and other varied organizations. Mr. Jameson takes the pen from behind his ear and reads over something on his desk, scrawling something on it quickly before he reads over what he’s written with the end of his pen between his teeth.

 

His voice pulls her out of her observational time.

 

“So, we’ve gotta jump right into things today, it’s one of  _ those _ days. I’ve got a few things I need faxed before ten A.M., and I need you to pick a few documents up from- and also take some to- Jordan, Quinn, and Kirk. At one P.M., we’ve got a meeting, so I’m gonna need you to take minutes,” he says, handing her some of the papers he’d written on. “There’s more to do, but I’ll fill you in on that after the meeting today.” His attention goes back to his desk, and Beyoncé takes that as a cue to stand, thank him, and leave.

  
He hums in response and she slips out of his office, standing and staring at him dumbly as the door closes. His brow is furrowed as he rests an elbow on the desk and reads a thick stack of papers, and his reading is interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. He looks up, answers it, and before he can look to see if anyone’s at the door, Beyoncé makes her way to Daysha. She’s quickly shown around the office (she’s got her own desk, she feels so official), told when her lunch break is, and then is completely shoved into the world of law face first.


End file.
